Chapter 26: Men Who Know Flowers Are Rare
“Overlords? Come on, isn't that just ferrying ships and cargo up and down the Sang River? And the upper reaches are Gwancheonbang territory anyway.”
Won Seung subtly belittled them, and the warrior's face twisted in anger.
“The Sang River routes are just one of Cheongsu Gate's businesses. Cheongsu Gate is...”
“Save it. I'm not interested in the small stuff, so no need for details... Does Cheongsu Gate have any real martial arts masters?”
The Cheongsu Gate warrior's face flushed red. How could anyone be so arrogant?
“Even the beggars on Sangyang's streets know Cheongsu Gate is teeming with experts like clouds in the sky. Too many to count, but especially the third lord...”
“Yeah, yeah, got it. I've got ears—I know there's a third lord. They say the second is one of the Hundred Great Masters, right? Anyone else noteworthy besides the third?”
“Hmph! The gate lord's sons have already reached the Peak realm...”
Provoked by Won Seung, the warrior rattled off Cheongsu Gate's masters one after another. Once he'd finished, Won Seung nodded in admiration.
“Hmm. Impressive. They really do live up to being Sangyang's overlords? Is Gwancheonbang about the same?”
“Hmph! Gwancheonbang just borrows Dosanrim's prestige to act tough, but they can't compare to us.”
Blood thicker than water, the warrior defended them fiercely.
Dosanrim belonged to the Three Great Blade Sects.
The Three Great Blade Sects rivaled the Four Great Sword Sects in fame and power. Cheongsu Gate and Gwancheonbang represented their respective overlords in a fierce power struggle over Sangyang.
Cheongsu Gate had Hwa Cheon-gang; Gwancheonbang had Cheon Il-hae, another of the midlands' Hundred Great Masters. On the surface, the two forces were evenly matched—only a real clash would reveal the victor.
Won Seung knew the lay of the land in Sangyang's martial world, so he scoffed inwardly at the warrior's words.
If I kill Hwa Cheon-gang, you'll get swallowed by Gwancheonbang overnight.
Won Seung suspected Gwancheonbang was behind the assassination commission on Hwa Cheon-gang.
But what's with that guy in coarse robes? Where'd a punk like that pop out from?
Daring to challenge one of the Hundred Great Masters. Was he Gwancheonbang's man? Possible. Or Jeokhyeolsan?
Won Seung doubted Jeokhyeolsan would entrust assassinating a Hundred Great Master to a trainee like him.
I'm just expendable. If I succeed, great; if not, discard me... They put me out as a decoy and sent the real assassin separately. Maybe that robed guy is from Jeokhyeolsan?
Nothing concrete pointed one way or another. Won Seung wasn't one for idle speculation.
He shook off the tangled thoughts, toured the outer compound while noting the terrain and layout. His eyes traced patrol routes even as his mouth endlessly expressed admiration for the sect, peppering the warriors with questions. They noticed nothing amiss.
Passing the moon-shaped gate to the inner compound, laughter from women drifted out from within.
Won Seung's gaze naturally drifted inside, where three women walked by, giggling nonstop over some amusing tale.
“Huh?”
One of the three was Hwa Yeo-wol, whom he'd met yesterday. Sensing his stare, she turned—and their eyes met.
“What brings you to Cheongsu Gate?”
Hwa Yeo-wol approached with a delighted smile.
“Eh. Staying over for some business. You... oh, you're a Hwa too. From Cheongsu Gate?”
“Watch your mouth. This is the third lord's precious daughter.”
The warrior, who'd been so brusque before, suddenly stiffened and warned curtly.
Won Seung ignored him completely.
“Aha! That explains it...”
“Explains what?”
“You had that martial artist's boldness. Buying drinks for a strange guy and all.”
When Won Seung brought up yesterday, Hwa Yeo-wol shook her head.
“You don't strike me as a man. More like a little brother.”
“That rubs me the wrong way. I look young, but we're about the same age.”
Won Seung scowled, but Hwa Yeo-wol let out a light laugh. Feeling insulted, he grumbled.
“What's so funny? Don't believe me?”
“Oh, sorry. Wasn't laughing at what you said.”
Hwa Yeo-wol had recalled the humiliation of that Jeong clan escort and cracked up.
“That hornet's probably fled a thousand li away by now, huh?”
“Who knows. Might've come crawling back, unable to resist the lure of that knockout powder scent.”
The two chatted like old friends, leaving the warriors and the other women baffled.
The shortest woman asked,
“Who's this guy?”
“Oh, right! Let me introduce him. A scholar from the capital.”
Hwa Yeo-wol introduced the other two.
“This is Yang Yeon-seo. And this is So Sansan.”
“Call me Seung.”
Won Seung omitted his surname. Back in the world, he had no desire to hide his name.
“Seung? Surname or given name?”
Yang Yeon-seo asked.
“Given name. I'll tell you my surname if fate brings us together.”
Yang Yeon-seo and So Sansan looked puzzled, but Hwa Yeo-wol, knowing Won Seung's quirks, chuckled.
“Seung places a lot of stock in fate. He wouldn't even tell me his name yesterday.”
Hwa Yeo-wol added more introductions.
“Yeon-seo is the sister of that Yang fellow you met yesterday. Sansan is the Taesu's only daughter.”
“Taesu? Sangyang's Taesu?”
Meeting a high official's daughter in a martial sect like Cheongsu Gate was unexpected.
Won Seung eyed So Sansan. All three were well-dressed, but Sansan seemed the most elegant somehow. She looked delicate, stirring an urge to protect her.
So Sansan seemed eager to speak but hesitated.
Hwa Yeo-wol spoke for her.
“Sansan lived in the capital until she was ten. Came to Sangyang with her father five years ago.”
“Oh, really? So you've been to Ilseon Ru too?”
“Yeah. The food there's amazing.”
So Sansan brightened, her eyes sparkling at the familiar name.
“I miss the capital.”
She grew up sheltered, innocent to the world.
A blood-soaked capital like Huangdo, missed? The three were all alumni of Cheongsan Academy—Hwa Yeo-wol the eldest at seventeen, like a big sister. Yang Yeon-seo and So Sansan were fifteen, a year younger than Won Seung. Unlike the spirited Hwa Yeo-wol, the other two were the epitome of refined scholarly daughters, demure in manner.
“We're heading to see the new flowers planted in the garden. Want to come?”
“Ah, miss. This man's involved in some incident...”
The supervising warrior objected, but Won Seung cut him off.
“You wait here.”
Treating him like a servant, Won Seung followed Hwa Yeo-wol's group.
Hwa Yeo-wol led them to her private garden and pointed to one spot.
“Over there. Golden bellflowers—extremely rare.”
A cluster of shimmering golden flowers bloomed by the pond.
That's a poison plant.
Won Seung muttered inwardly as he examined them. Similar to golden bellflowers, but actually golden hemp flowers, a deadly poison. Dried roots destroyed the kidneys, leading to death.
Unaware, the three women cooed over the blooms' beauty. The yellow petals against the jade-green pond exuded elegance.
“Oh, to see su-ran-seol here. Unexpected.”
Won Seung admired a patch of clustered aquatic plants. Su-ran-seol were notoriously hard to cultivate.
“My, you know your flowers?”
So Sansan, passionate about gardens, lit up.
“Tending flowers cultivates a gentleman's heart.”
Won Seung said casually, and a soft glow filled So Sansan's eyes.
“You're the first to say that.”
“Won't be the last. Men who know flowers are rare.”
Won Seung shrugged and explained the various blooms around Hwa Yeo-wol's garden. The women marveled at his encyclopedic knowledge. He'd learned it studying poisons, but to them, a man versed in flowers was uniquely charming.
“Scholars from the capital really are different.”
Yang Yeon-seo admired.
As Won Seung basked in their attention, someone entered the garden with a deliberate cough. Turning, they saw a middle-aged man approaching with a displeased expression.
Looking between forty and fifty, Hwa Cheon-un had an ordinary build and a calm, scholarly air. But Won Seung knew he was Cheongsu Gate's third strongest—rivaling the Hundred Great Masters. He quietly reined in his energy.
Hwa Cheon-un had gone to the guest quarters, missed Won Seung, and come straight here upon hearing he'd entered the inner garden with his daughter.
Hwa Cheon-un approached, fixing Won Seung with his gaze.
“You're the one Jeong Ho-chang brought in?”
His voice held no emotion, but a chill undercurrent lingered.
“Ah, Father.”
Hwa Yeo-wol panicked—she hadn't expected him, and his mood was icier than usual.
Won Seung kept a straight face and said to her,
“Just a little misunderstanding. No worries.”
Then, with a slight bow to Hwa Cheon-un,
“I came of my own accord, not captured. You must be Cheongsu Gate's third lord, Yeo-wol's father.”
Won Seung replied without a hint of deference, and Hwa Cheon-un's eye twitched faintly.
This punk?
Treating the third lord like a neighbor uncle.
Scanning Won Seung up and down, he noted the scholar's robes and nodded.
If he knows nothing of the martial world... it makes sense.
Hwa Cheon-un glanced between Won Seung and Hwa Yeo-wol.
“What business does a man have in the ladies' garden?”
“She offered to show me around. Gardens are meant to be shared, aren't they?”
“Exactly. I invited him.”
Hwa Yeo-wol chimed in. Softening at his beloved daughter's words, Hwa Cheon-un kept a stern face.
“I've told you not to bring outsiders into the inner compound.”
Hwa Yeo-wol pouted but couldn't whine in front of others.
“Ah, right. I'm the outsider. Guess I'll head out.”
Won Seung said to Hwa Yeo-wol,
“Loved the pretty garden. See you around. Yeon-seo, Sansan—nice meeting you.”
He turned to leave.
“Hold on.”
Hwa Cheon-un stopped him.
“I have words for you. Follow me.”
Watching Hwa Cheon-un lead Won Seung away, Hwa Yeo-wol tilted her head.
Why's Father looking for Seung? More importantly, what brought him to the main compound?
Won Seung entered Hwa Cheon-un's study, feeling more like a scholar's library than a warrior's quarters. It reminded him of his father's room back at Won Mansion.
They say Cheongsu Gate's strategies all come from the third lord...
Won Seung recalled Jeokhyeolsan's intel. His martial arts might lag behind Hwa Cheon-gang's, but he was the sect's most dangerous figure.
Those who kill with schemes are the slyest.
Maids served tea at the low table.
“Come, sit.”
Won Seung took a sip.
Hwa Cheon-un's sharp eyes calmly scanned him from head to toe.
He never crushed foes with brute force to extract answers. He believed fear-tainted truths were unreliable.
He preferred piercing vulnerabilities, sifting lies from facts, piecing together the real picture.
That was why the world called Cheongsu Gate's third lord mild-mannered, while those in the know deemed him the cruelest of all.
Hwa Cheon-un stared silently. Most couldn't endure such quiet pressure.
But.
Won Seung nodded casually and said,
“The third lord's tea is definitely a cut above.”